Dude. This is quite the experience.

Went out for a couple drinks last night and I was disappointed. Not in the company or the atmosphere, but the general lack of excitement I thought I'd surely feel. The alcohol tasted funny, and I wonder if the past ten teetotaling months have changed my tastes that much. Maybe I should have eased back in with a beer instead of a mojito. When half the drink was gone I just felt tired and bit distracted as I wondered how Micah and the baby were doing without me. Though when I am with her and she is inconsolably crying and I feel like strapping her safely in her bouncy seat and driving far, far away, when I am far, far away the thought of her crying like that makes my tits ache.

All the little ways this baby has changed my life queue up in a chaotic line and suddenly I find myself needing a map for the simplest of tasks. I shampooed twice in the shower the other day. Right now Micah is singing to the baby. For every shitastic episode of whatever, there is a moment of complete, blissful clarity. This is our baby. She tickles every fancy and the fancies are working overtime to keep me sane.

Another thing keeping me sane is the Anne Lamott book I'm reading. I find myself putting it down a lot, it's so good. I want to savor it. It's about her son's first year of life, sort of a journal, and I find it so spot on. Even though I know I'm not the first mother to ever exist, it surely feels like it sometimes. And other moms felt it to! I'm not totally effing crazy! Anne did this as a single mom with a very colicky baby, so the fact that I have a loving husband and a decently unfussy baby makes me feel like I can do this. Then I open a card from my parents that they've sent through the mail. It basically says we know it's hard and we think you're doing great and I'm sucking back tears. These hormones, y'all. I'm pretty sure motherhood renders you a sniffling delicato (that's not a word, but I'm feeling creative) no matter how you may object. Because normally? Hallmark sentiments don't knock me in the emotional nuts.

I suddenly want my hair to be long, long, long. At least there's that. Don't most moms want to cut it all off? That's the cliche. The mom cut. Fuck that. I'm a rebel, right? Sadly not, actually, but I like to pretend sometimes.

Baby accomplishments:
-Squawking in a very cry-like manner, but the cry never comes. It's hilarious. Testing vocal chords, I assume.
-Very good at clenching legs together while diaper is being affixed, rendering completion impossible.
-Makes very nice round "o" with mouth. Cherubic.
-Sleeps in any position, including Snapped My Neck and Look How My Arm Can Bend.
-Chortling is at an all time high. While nipple nears face, baby frantically bobs her head back and forth, mouth agape, grunting from the depths of her belly. Notice how this makes Mommy laugh and forget that poopsplosion of a diaper she just handled. Barely.
-Notices things. Notices she's alone. Notices the dog. Notices when the bouncing stops, which is simply not acceptable.

She's one month old today.